


Whatever's Left

by holysmoaksoliver



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holysmoaksoliver/pseuds/holysmoaksoliver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity’s pet-peeve gets the better of her</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever's Left

She’d been in the lair an hour and she couldn’t believe how much it was bothering her. She needed to just let it go, put it out of her mind, stop focusing on it. But it was always a silly little pet-peeve of hers and so even though she knew she was going to regret being that close to him, she had to do it.

Felicity stood from her seat, steeling her nerves and taking a first, cautious step toward Oliver. He was seated messing with one of his trick arrows and had his back turned toward her. Maybe that was why it bothered her so much, it was right there staring her in the face. She took another step closer, her hands wringing each other nervously at her waist. Her heels clicked across the floor with every step and she wondered briefly if he might look up, ask her what she was doing, stop her from coming any closer. It wouldn’t be the first time since their botched date that he’d stepped away from her, removing himself from a situation where he’d normally get too close, invade her personal space. She missed that closeness, if she were being completely honest with herself. She missed a lot of things about their relationship pre-date, if she were being completely honest with herself. But Felicity had learned long ago that being completely honest with herself was not something that her heart could afford. Not anymore.

Another step closer and a tether pulled at her, like Oliver was pulling her into his orbit. She was less than two feet from him now, closer than she’d been in months and the pull got stronger, if that was imaginable, making it impossible for her to turn back now. Oliver’s head was down, his shoulders tense as he hunched over the arrow he was working on. Felicity wondered if he was even aware of her approach. 

She paused behind him, her fingers twitching slightly as she reached out toward the back of his neck. Heat radiated from him, palpable and tangible making her mouth go dry. And then her index finger rested on the back of his sweater, gingerly tucking the tag on the back of his shirt back inside. He tensed instantly but didn’t move, didn’t turn, didn’t even breathe. Her skin burned at every point of contact with his, coursing with electricity or adrenaline or whatever it was that made her feel like they were connected somehow.

“Sorry,” she whispered quietly. “Your tag…” she explained, flustered. “It was sticking out.”

Oliver took a deep breath, his shoulders heaving upwards with the inhale. His head nodded slowly, just once. Felicity withdrew her hand from the back of his neck and she watched as he tensed again, whatever defenses he’d dropped during the deep breath and their short touch going right back up again. Felicity’s brain screamed at her, telling her that this was her worst idea yet, that she should have just resisted the urge to tuck that tag back in.

She spun quickly on her heel, her need for a retreat pounding as the heartbeat in her ears. But he caught her hand, keeping her from leaving, pulling her attention back to the gravitational force that was Oliver Queen.

“Felicity,” he said quietly. She’d always loved the melody of her name on his lips. Felicity swallowed hard, her eyes dragged upwards from the hard concrete floor to meet his. Her fingers were seared with his touch, fire licking at her palm, at her fingertips, at the place on the back of her hand where the pad of his rough calloused thumb slowly caressed.

“Thank you,” he whispered, so quietly she could barely make it out. Two words with more meaning behind them than just the simple tag on his shirt. Two words that forced them both to accept the fact that for as much as they’d been avoiding each other for the last several months, both of them knew it would never last forever. Two words that meant three, whispered in the dark a thousand moments ago.

Or maybe the thank you was just a thank you and Felicity was once again reading more into it than Oliver could ever mean. She smiled, briefly, and then dropped her gaze and her hand from his. The heat drained from her hand, leaving her with the icy cold emptiness of the last several months, of being without Oliver.

She cursed herself under her breath. Felicity knew that tag would be the death of her.


End file.
